


False awakening

by ShariDeschain



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Forever Evil AU, Gen, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 01:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11567874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShariDeschain/pseuds/ShariDeschain
Summary: One: He’s never really awake, so He doesn’t really sleep. Two: there’s nothing, and then there’s something, and then there’s nothing again, and that’s how life works. Three: He’s either alone or there are others. Four: if there are others, there is usually a fight, and when there is a fight, His body moves to defend itself.Those are the only notions he’s aware of.Or, something goes wrong with Dick’s resurrection.





	False awakening

**Author's Note:**

> _“A false awakening is a vivid and convincing dream about awakening from sleep, while the dreamer in reality continues to sleep”._

One: He’s never really awake, so He doesn’t really sleep. Two: there’s nothing, and then there’s something, and then there’s nothing again, and that’s how life works. Three: He’s either alone or there are others. Four: if there are others, there is usually a fight, and when there is a fight, His body moves to defend itself. 

Those are the only notions he’s aware of. 

Everything else is white noise, shadows moving out of the corner of His eyes, and He never feels the need to care about any of it.

Tonight’s different, though. There is a tug, and He looks down to find a little boy clinging to His arm, looking up at Him. He feels a spark, something so infinitesimal He barely has the time to register it before it’s gone. But it _was_ there. He blinks. It’s such a new thing.

The little boy is talking. He doesn’t understand what he’s saying, doesn’t even know that those are words. He just knows that it’s a different sound from, say, the chirping of birds or the beeping of machines.

There is another tug. The little boy’s face is all scrunched up now, in a grimace that sometimes means there’s going to be an attack soon. But He doesn’t tense. His instincts are saying that He’s safe, that this little boy is not a threat right now, and instincts are the only thing He can rely on.

Anything else, like time, has no meaning to Him, so He doesn’t know for how long the boy talks, but at some point the sounds of his words changes, the rhythm becomes more frantic, then it breaks. He watches the tears on the little boy’s cheeks, listens to his sobs. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, but He finds it upsetting, so He raises his free hand to touch the boy’s hair because it feels like the right thing to do to make him stop.

It doesn’t work. Or, at least, not like He wants to.

The boy lets go of His arm to wrap himself around His waist, and He tenses for a moment because that _could be_ an attack, but then the boy buries his face into His stomach, still crying, still talking, and He immediately relaxes. 

Since it had no effect before, He doesn’t touch the boy again, but He lets him cling to Him. He appreciates the warmth, and the sounds are muffled now, more tired, less upsetting to hear, so He doesn’t mind the contact at all.

*

He feels another spark when a kid and a man appear in His line of vision an indefinite period of time later. It disappears just as fast as the first one, and He pays no more attention to it. Only blinks again.

He watches the two newcomers approaching Him, and studies their body language to be ready in case they were to attack. But when they’re close enough they only start talking, and the words are not aimed at Him, but at the little boy now sitting beside Him on the floor.

The exchange is completely meaningless to His ears, but after a while the man comes crouching down in front of Him, and He raises His eyes to meet a firm, angry glare. Then the kid gets closer too, and now it’s two of them, and He clenches His fists because they’re both in His personal space and they both look angry while they talk to Him.

There’s a vague memory of past fights somewhere in His mind, but He can never recall any details about them, even if He wants to. Anything that is not the present is hard to grasp. Still, He remembers anger, and He doesn’t like it.

But before He can begin to react, the boy stands up and says something to the other two before turning towards Him to offer Him his hand. He stares at it for a moment, eyes attentive, senses still alert, but now that no one’s talking He doesn’t feel like He’ll have to defend Himself anymore.

So He takes the boy’s hand and accepts his help to get Himself up on His feet, even if He’s able to do it on His own. He feels another hand closing around His elbow, but it’s a gentle hold, almost apologetical, and when He turns the kid smiles sheepishly up at Him. The man is still angry, but he’s not looking at Him right now, so He relaxes again and allows the kid and the boy to lead Him towards the exit.

*

He’s not interested in space more than He’s interested in time, but He knows He’s moving a lot, following the boy, the kid and the man. There is a car, then a plane, then a hotel room, an empty warehouse, and eventually a familiar apartment.

The man and the little boy are yelling. Fighting. Not with fists, not yet, but He knows that it’s going to happen soon. Recognizes the patterns, the mood of the room. It’s not the first time that something like this happens either, and usually it’s all background noise to Him, just like everything else, but tonight He finds himself staring, hands twitching with impatience.

He waits until the man starts raising his hand and then He moves before even knowing He’s moving. He’s silent, and He’s quick, and He has no problem in grabbing the man’s wrist to prevent him from lashing out.

Startled, the man turns around to look at Him with wide eyes. He’s defensive and ready to snap, but the man’s gaze shifts to his own raised hand, and He sees him frowning, confused. Then the boy breaks the silence with a soft voice and takes a few tentative steps towards them. The man turns to look at the boy, and then at his own hand again, and he looks ashamed now, like he’s just realizing what he was going to do.

It should be enough, but He doesn’t let go anyway, and keeps staring until the kid comes in the room and gently pries the man’s arm out of His hold. The boy, the kid, the man, they’re all looking at Him now. And there’s something on their faces, an emotion He can’t name, but that often feels for Himself. He blinks twice.

There are only a few hushed words spoken after that, and they all sound somewhat ominous to His ears. But He doesn’t concern Himself with the future more than He concerns Himself with the past, and the only thing that matters to Him right now is that no one’s fighting anymore.

*

The man looks like he’s made of shadows and silence, but He follows his movements in the dark with ease. He’s wary of him, but not alarmed, because the other man, the kid and the boy are all waiting for him too.

When the man finally steps into the light, He feels both the kid and the boy press themselves closer to His sides, in what looks like a protective stance. He finds Himself confused about the situation. There’s a sense of unpleasantness, but not of danger, and something that is close to anger, but washed down with another of those emotions He can’t really grasp.

So He waits, and they talk, lots and lots of sounds, familiar voices, old arguments, like an ancient lullaby.

From what He can discern from both their bodies language and facial expressions, the two men have an opinion, and the two kids have another. He looks at the pit underneath their feet when the younger man points at it with a violent yell, and another spark makes Him shake as He realizes that the pit is the reason of the fight.

He feels a little hand worm its way into His own, and looks down to find the boy staring up at Him again. And it’s unsettling because He remembers him or, at least, He feels like He _should_ remember him. Them.

Familiar voices.

He blinks once, twice, three times. 

Then the older man steps closer and He pulls back. Panic is something new to Him. He reacts the only way He knows how, the only way He remembers. He fights. And for the first time, He loses.

*

It’s a weird feeling, waking up. Although He’s not sure He’s really awake, because being awake is something He’s never experienced before.

The older man stares down at Him and he’s smiling and not smiling, and he’s kind and he’s harsh, and he’s cruel and he’s merciful, all at the same time.

They’re moving, and He’s been carried down in the pit, and there are fireflies all around Him. Little sparks in the night, like stars.

He feels the touch of the water against the skin and He sighs because it’s warm and it feels good. The man clutches Him closer to his chest, and it feels even better, it feels safe. There are drops of water trapped in His eyelashes already, and He keeps blinking. Everything is so new. The fireflies seem to buzz, a multitude of fuzzy sparks.

The moment just before being pushed under the surface He looks up and He sees the boy, the kid and the younger man standing close together above the pit. The corner of His mouth twitches in what He thinks could be a smile.

If He could dream, this is what His dream would look like.

He closes His eyes, and for the first time He sleeps.

*

When he opens his eyes again, for the first time in a long while, Dick Grayson’s awake.

**Author's Note:**

> I guess you never know how dear dialogues and names are to you until you go and try to write a fic without them. 
> 
> Anyway, I don't even know if this fic makes sense to anyone else but I got [this prompt](https://unavenged-robin.tumblr.com/post/163254176688/so-idk-if-youre-still-taking-batkid-prompts-or): _"Dick dies, only for a minute, then goes undercover to do the spy thing right? What if he died for a little longer than those couple minutes. And what if for some reason Spyral wants him. And so Dick is doing spy things, but is like Jason when he was first brought back to life and is mostly not there. Free muscle and a blank slate. But someone screws up and the Batkids find out. And they are Not Happy."_ and this is what my mind conjured up.


End file.
